


Kindred Spirit

by Jarakrisafis



Category: Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Shattered Glass
Genre: BDSM, Bloodplay, M/M, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 17:03:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarakrisafis/pseuds/Jarakrisafis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vortex isn't sure how he ended up in an alternate dimension. He does know that he likes it. They sure know how to treat their prisoners you see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kindred Spirit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ultharkitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultharkitty/gifts).



> Ultharkitty wanted medic porn. I saw this prompt and couldn't resist.
> 
> http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/10462.html?thread=9794270#t9794270

It had been getting boring around base, what with no Decepticon incursions, the pathetic resistance force were keeping their helms down since they had granted the strange not-Cliffjumper asylum. Prime had been less than impressed. At least that had given Ratchet something to do, repairing any idiots that hadn't had the sense to hide when Optimus went on a rampage had been quite satisfying, until he ran out of patients. That's when the boredom kicked in. Even First Aid had been moping around, except when his gestalt kin popped in and then sparks flew and Ratchet had something to hold his attention for a while.

Then the patrol had dragged the rotary mech in and things had suddenly got a lot better. Especially since Prime was so... appreciative of the work Ratchet had done while he had been so angered. Keeping mechs online when over half their energon lines have been torn does take some skill. He had been so appreciative he had handed the Decepticon to him. Even better he hadn't been given any limitations whatsoever. No, the rotary currently hanging limply from the restraints in the cell was entirely his, to do with as he pleased.

Well, his and First Aid's. Not that sharing was a problem. In fact it just made it all so much better. Aid did enjoy making them beg, Ratchet was quite happy to just watch a mech break into pieces at First Aid's feet.

First Aid flashes him a quick grin before his surgical mask slides shut as he lays his tools out, they'll be well within the Decepticons vision once he is pulled out of stasis. Ratchet smirks in response as he settles onto the small berth tucked against one side of the cell.

First Aid steps in close, jacking into the mechs systems and forcing him back online. “Ow, frag!” comes out in a static laced mutter as he powers back up, his visor lighting up and focussing on First Aid, confusion clear as his helm tilted to one side.

“Morning Vortex. I like your new paint job.” First Aid says and Ratchet has to agree, the scarlet visor was a big improvement over the pale blue Vortex usually wears.

Bewilderment is still the main emotion, none of the fear or panic that was to be expected as the rotary mech flicks his gaze over to Ratchet for a moment before back to the medic in front of him. “Thank you. Like yours too.” Vortex recovered remarkably fast, his optics raking up and down First Aid's frame.

Ratchet smiles indulgently as First Aid selects a scalpel from table. Vortex stiffens slightly, but the quiver of his rotors clattering against the wall was distinctly more anticipation than fear. Strange. Something to be figured out later though. Right now he had a show to watch.

Vortex hisses at the first cut, and the second, the third though gains a shiver and even Aid pulls back, twirling the scalpel around his fingers. “Looks like he might be.” He says to Ratchet as he runs his fingers along one of the cuts, not deep enough to penetrate through to energon lines and internal wiring but enough to catch the sensor net underneath the outer armour and make it hurt.

“Might be what?” Vortex asks as he simultaneously tries to flinch away from the probing fingers and push his frame towards them.

“From the alternate reality. We had a mech called Cliffjumper here, sickeningly noble and righteous.” First Aid says as he presses against one of the cuts, smirking at the strangled whine from the rotary. 

“That sounds like the Cliffjumper I know.” Vortex says once he has mastered his vocaliser, before he chuckles, “Ha, so that explains why you're acting nothing like First Aid.” The scalpel is drawn across his armour, lightly enough that it only melts paint, tracing a path from his stomach to his throat, ending up next to his vocaliser. Close enough that there is a static undertone when he speaks next. “I think I like this version of you better already.”

First Aid hums. “You don't scream like our Vortex does.” He reaches a hand around, tugging at his rotors. “He'd already be begging us to stop.” The next tug is more of a jerk, the sensor laden edge creaking under the medic's grip and Vortex can't help the moan as he arches his back. “You're not going to ask me to stop are you?”

Vortex shakes his helm quickly, pushing his frame towards First Aid's until he reaches the limit of his chains.

Ratchet smirks, he doesn't need to be able to see First Aid to know that his apprentice is grinning in pleasure at the silent request to continue. His own circuits buzz with charge as he watches, he's taught First Aid well. The younger medic humming to himself as he works, his victim, or possibly partner, writhing underneath his ministrations.

He has to admit, it is a change, a pleasant change at that, to have a mech who hasn't broken down and started begging. That would also get his charge up, just watching the helplessness and broken pride as his apprentice slowly dismantles them. No, this isn't like that, but it's just as good though. Like 'facing with Jazz or Ricochet, neither of them are afraid of a little pain. Welcome it even.

Oh yes. Ratchet growls as the rotary screams again, the sound at odds with his frame as he arches forwards, begging for more. He opens his own interface panel, running a hand around the head of his spike, it doesn't need much coaxing to draw it out as he watches Aid lift Vortex's feet. The rotary hissing as his arms end up with most of his weight on them.

He's at a perfect angle to watch as his apprentice slowly enters the Decepticon, pressing forwards until his spike is buried to the hilt. Vortex whines, his legs wrapping around Aid's waist as he tries to buck his hips.

Ratchet groans, his hand running along his spike as he admires his apprentices control and willpower as he holds himself still, waiting for their guest to submit. It doesn't take long, his helm is thrown back against the wall, his optical band dark as he continues to make small whimpers of need. “Come on, just frag me already.” One side of the optical band lights up to squint at Aid before flashing back off at the medics rough jerk of his hips.

Ratchet snickers softly, the sound lost in Vortex's wail of pleasure as Aid finally moves, slamming his hips into the rotary with a snarl, his fingers wrapped none too gently around his rotor hub. The elder medic tenses, he does like watching and his apprentice is putting on a slagging good show. The built up charge crackles over his armour, pleasure rolling over his frame in a wave, his spike jerking in his hand. He lazily sits back as his systems reboot watching as Vortex overloads, his frame shuddering, and First Aid follows him with a last slam off his hips.

The optical band flickers weakly as the rotary gingerly puts his feet back on solid ground. “Can I stay here?” 

“Here?” First Aid asks as he tugs on a chain, his optics flickering around the cell in confusion and Vortex frowns slightly.

“Well, I was meaning in this reality, the chains might get uncomfortable after a while.”


End file.
